


The Asp of Slytherin

by sh_blackburn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19240522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sh_blackburn/pseuds/sh_blackburn
Summary: Albus Severus just didn't like being compared to his Father.Also: the story of a boy who is a bit too good at taking what he wants, another who is a bit too used to getting what he wants and the Dark Arts they get into together.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Erm, hi!  
> This story was stuck in my head for almost three years now and I might have finally been able to write it out. I planned on posting it only after I wrote the whole thing, but I decided to give you a bit and see the reaction it gets. So... feedback, please?

He was tired, absolutely, totally tired. And maybe a little angry. It was a month after the Battle of Hogwarts and there were a lot of things that needed to be done. Rebuilding the school, restructuring the Ministry, hunting down the Death Eaters who managed to somehow escape… He had to finish his education, Hermione insisted on taking their NEWTs this year. And everything was on his own damned shoulders, because somehow it was his task not only to vanquish the Dark Lord, but also his petty minions who kept hiding! And it was apparently his own fault that the castle was ruined, because why else would Hermione insist on him helping with that? Why couldn't he just rest?

And the damn letter from Gringotts he got yesterday – they wanted to meet him, but why would they want that? Was it because of the stealing? Was he in danger? The goblins actually looked moderately friendly, or as friendly as they could ever get, but still. Who knew?

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” said that one on the right. He was smiling. Cruelly, but… “After me.”

So he followed, what else to do? The goblin walked through many corridors in the main building and finally opened a heavy stone door, leading to an office with obvious bloodstains on the floor and axes hanging on the walls. ‘Creepy,’ he thought, as he entered the room.

The first goblin bowed and quickly closed the door behind himself. Harry looked around. Behind a massive wooden desk, another goblin sat.

“They call me Bloodaxe,” he said, “and I was appointed to talk business with you today. Sit.”

Harry nodded, he felt he was going to nod a lot today. Why the hell he had to come here?

“It came to our awareness that you did not come to the bank after your coming of age. Why?”

“There was a war and I couldn't be caught.”

“Of course.” The goblin opened a drawer and took out some papers. “I have some things to tell you, Mr. Potter.”

And Harry nodded. Again.

“Your name has been mentioned in many last wills in gratitude of ending both wars. Here is a list of the items that came into your possession.” The goblin slid a paper towards the boy, who took it with trembling hands. The list was long, astonishingly so, though there were no items that stopped his eye. “You have also been made the sole heir of Lord Sirius Black.”

Harry stopped reading. He wasn't aware Sirius was a Lord. He was disinherited from the family, burnt from the tree, right?

“No, Mr. Potter.” Harry caught himself staring. He didn’t say that aloud, so the goblin must have used some sort of Legilimency. “He was not disinherited. Burnt, yes, but Lord Arcturus, Sirius’ grandfather clearly stated in his will that Sirius Black was to be the next in line. There is no problem with that as you do have Black blood, through your great-grandmother, Dorea. Just sign here that you accept the responsibility of Lord Black.”

“Responsibility?”

The goblin looked at the document critically.

“Not much, most of the Blacks are dead, except for Andromeda Tonks, Teddy Lupin, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. And you. There is also a connection to the Longbottoms, but that line is no longer alive. And we only count three generations down when a Black woman marries into another House. And so, if you don't take the title, your hypothetical sons will not be Blacks, but if you do, well, they can someday take the title, too.”

“But what are the responsibilities?” Harry asked again. This was all unicorns and rainbows, but there had to be a catch.

“It's just a figure. You can remove people from the family tree, you can take their gold, you can do anything you want. But I wouldn’t recommend it. All the gold from the dead branches is already yours and that is a lot. You also have all of their books and artifacts and properties at your disposal. Here is the list.”

Another document, four times longer than the previous one.

“I can arrange to combine everything in one place, such as moving all the books to the main Black library and all the gold in one vault. For a price.”

“Yes, please.”

“Which brings me to the next subject at hand. The Potter line.”

“Yes?”

“Well, if you sign here, the Lordship is yours.”

Bloodaxe handed him another document. Harry stared at it blankly.

“Lordship?”

“The Potters are an old House, descending from the Peverells, it’s obvious that it comes with a Lordship.”

“Why didn't I know of this before?”

“If you'd bothered to stop by the bank for other purposes than to take money from your trust vault or steal an artifact from a vault that could have been yours by law after Sirius Black’s death, you’d have known,” the goblin sneered.

Harry’s eyes wandered downwards in shame as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Where do I sign?”

“Here. Good. These are the vault statements. As you can see, just money. Unfortunately, everything else burnt in a fire two decades ago along with the Manor.”

Harry frowned. So no Manor.

“What about other properties?”

“Potter?” Bloodaxe lifted the corners of his lips. That wasn’t a smile. Harry nodded. “Besides the burnt Manor, there is a cottage in Godric’s Hollow, which is considered a historical monument. Not much, I’m afraid.”

So there weren’t many options, Harry thought. A burnt down Manor or a historical monument that was his parents’ place of death. He should accept the Black Lordship – he didn’t fancy living in a flat his whole life, he knew Ginny would want a proper Manor… And he didn’t want Malfoy to get Sirius’ money.

“I’ll take the Black Lordship, sir.”

~...~

He left, taking with him all parchments. The list of gifted items, of everything Black and all the properties he inherited and the vault statements. A few days later, when he found the time, he took a tour.

Lestrange Manor was in surprisingly good shape. There were five house elves there and they introduced themselves as Cordy the head elf, Carpy the maid, Corpy the cook, Cardy the gardener and Cirey, their mother and the old nurse. The manor laid upon a lake and had an English garden in the back. Harry even liked the interior design. It wasn’t the gloomy Death Eater lair he expected. The only thing connecting the house to the name were the House crests above the fireplaces, which could be changed to his own. He took a note to think of another name for the Manor and continued his tour.

Next, he went to see the ruins of Potter Manor. Of what Harry knew to have been a beautiful house, only fundations were left. The grounds where vast, with English style gardens, a forest and a ritual Circle, but he couldn't imagine restoring the Manor to its previous glory. It was the same with the Godric's Hollow cottage – not only was it a historical monument, it also held unpleasant memories of his parents' deaths.

Grimmauld Place looked the same as the year before, with the only difference being the lack of Kreacher. Harry found his dead body in the house elf's cupboard. There was apparently a Black townhouse in Paris, which was doing quite well, but Harry felt that it was much too far from England. The Villa in Greece was beautiful, with its own beach and sunny rooms and Harry thought that it was a great place for family vacations.

The Black Palace was last inhabited by the previous Lord, which was some years ago and the interior was slowly getting to the same stage as was Grimmauld Place before the Order came. As the old house elf was apparently decapitated and on the wall, Harry decided to employ two younger elves - one for the house and the other for the garden, nevermind Hermione's feelings on the subject. It did look absolutely beautiful, with French-style gardens, outdoor and indoor pools, baths, galleries, a quidditch pitch, vast lakes, forests and a beach – not mentioning the impressive Library building or the main Palace… But it was much too big for him.

In any case, Harry decided that he'd leave the decision making to another time. He felt that he should ask Ginny - it would be her house too. For now he would live with Ron and his family, think about his education and a career.

He wanted to be in the auror before the war, but now he felt tired of the fighting and just wanted to rest. He knew Hermione would want him to return to Hogwarts, but after the battle he couldn't bring himself to look at the school anymore. It held too many memories for him, and not only good ones.

Harry decided that he'd buy a flat in central London, try studying on his own for his NEWTs and maybe try another subject, like Ancient Runes or a mastery. Ginny had to finish school and she had decided to become a professional quidditch player after. The Holyhead Harpies have already invited her to play with them, which meant that Harry had at least a few years before they could settle and have a family together.

Harry took his exams in the Ministry sometime in November. Hermione had sent him some notes in the months before, and Harry felt that he was prepared enough. It turned out that he qualified for Mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he gladly took the opportunity.

He and Ginny went out for many dates. He took her to London mainly - for dinners in muggle restaurants and evenings in the cinema. Ginny was delighted to learn more about the culture she knew nothing about before.

The year soon ended and the Leaving Feast in Hogwarts saw one Harry James Potter kneeling in front of Ginevra Molly Weasley with a ring and a question.  
She said yes and almost cried.

Harry had three more years to finish his Defence Mastery and Ginny moved in with him to his little flat in London. Her exams at the end of the year also went well and she took up the offer of the Holyhead Harpies in the position of Seeker.

Life was good.

~...~

July 2003

“Harry?” Ginny whispered.

“Mhm?” he answered. They were lying in bed after a long day. It was summer, and Harry had just today finished his last Mastery exams. It was a miracle he was still alive. He didn't know what to do now, but maybe it was time to find somewhere to work? He could go for Auror, but he already had the knowledge and abilities and they would still want him to take the two-year trainee program. Waste of time. He could teach somewhere, but that would require him leaving Ginny and living full-time in some school...

“I was thinking, you know,” she started. Or he could just take his seats… Politics maybe? “I met Angelina today. She’s pregnant again, with a girl. She and George are naming her Roxanne. You remember Angelina, right?”

“Yeah, I met them in Diagon Alley a couple of times,” Harry said. “They have a son, I think?”

“So,” Ginny smiled and curled next to Harry. He hugged her closer. “I think I want a child, too. A baby boy, hmm?”

“A baby boy, you say?” Harry murmured into her hair. Inside, he was so happy, so excited. He wanted a child for years already, but he had his mastery to finish and Ginny never said she was ready. Now, on the other hand?

Ginny nodded and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled.

~...~

Harry and Ginny bonded in front of an old oak tree in the center of Ottery St. Catchpole on a warm, sunny day. It was the 1st of August and everything was so, so perfect.

Ginny resigned from her team while they still lived in the flat. Harry brought her along for a visit to the properties they owned a couple of days later, and left the decision of moving to her. She said many times before that the flat was just enough, but with the added member in the family they both felt that it was time to move.

Ginny liked the Lestrange Manor the most. It wasn't as big as the Black Palace and felt really homely. The high ceilings and the wooden, warm interiors, along with the beautifully carved fireplaces made the house feel at the same time similar and different to the Burrow. She also really liked the leatherflower-covered bridge on the lake in the front of the manor and the gardens behind. For her it was a dream come true; since she was a little girl she had wanted to live in a wonderful pureblood manor and everything, from the ballroom and dining room and drawing rooms to the bedrooms and bathrooms, was exactly as she had always imagined. There was even a music room and a library.

They moved in a week later and renamed it the Starlake Manor and Harry changed it into a Potter property. Life was perfect.

Harry took up his Wizengamot seats, Ginny slept a lot, ate for two, butchered the piano and made sarcastic comments, but she was happy. And Harry was happy, too.

The baby was indeed a boy, and after not much thought they decided on James Sirius, and it suited the little one very well. He kicked and kicked and was very energetic.

James Sirius came to the world on April 9th 2004 and looked at his father with his dark brown eyes and laughed.

Harry held James Sirius in his arms and kissed his forehead, and declared the child as his.

~...~

Days went by, spent on reading, playing, swimming in the outdoor pools in the garden.

In September 2003 Lord Harry Potter-Black entered the chamber in the Ministry and said his vows. It started his political dance through dinner parties, balls, brunches, talks and votes.

They made a big change regarding the muggleborns. A representative from the Department of Mysteries shared their new research, concerning the connection between the purity of blood and the strength of magic and it looked like muggleborns were very much needed in society.

The meeting resulted in a decision to start introducing the muggleborns earlier, not a few months before school. There was also an idea of an orphanage for those kids whose parents were unsuitable for raising them. (Some of the light wizards and muggleborns tried to protest against the government's decision to take children from their families, but they were few). The Rosier Residence, one of the many vacant premises held by the Ministry in lieu of reparations, was proposed to be used for the purpose, and soon it was redecorated and little witches and wizards started arriving there.

They used an artifact similar to the Book and Quill in Hogwarts and even found muggleborns who were old enough to go to Hogwarts and didn't! They were few, but all of them lived in muggle orphanages and were horribly mistreated.

Teachers for the poor little kids were found, a new school (pre-school) founded, and life returned back to its tracks. The magical world became even more closed from the muggle one.

End of August 2004 saw Harry leading a lady towards the Manor and Ginny happily seated in the music room waiting for her piano lessons.

December saw the Potters hosting a Yule Gala combined with a midnight ritual in the back of the Manor. It was the first Yule ritual Ginny was present for, and she strongly felt the renewing magic brushing through them all.

Late January of 2005 saw them both in bed, talking about a daughter.

~...~

“Luna,” Ginny said. “What do you think, Harry? Lily Luna.”

“Has a nice ring to it,” he replied and hugged his wife. The manor was too big for just the three of them. A girl would make it right, he thought.  
Harry smiled and kissed Ginny.

Everything was perfect.

~...~

They hosted one more party, in the summer, and every guest congratulated Ginny on her pregnancy. She was the happiest pregnant woman in the whole magical world and she looked vibrant and healthy and alive.

They went for a Samhain ritual, and she felt the child kicking. She felt it was happy. She felt it loved the feel of magic.

She gave birth on the 12th of November 2005. To a boy.

~...~

Harry held his second son in his arms and couldn't help the feeling of disappointment creeping into his heart. He tried to fight it, he really did, but failed miserably. He saw the green eyes, the black hair. He saw the perfect copy of himself and he couldn't look away.

“Albus,” he said. “Albus Severus.” For those eyes were the same ones Severus loved, and that boy looked the same as the one that Albus held so much hope for.

And he gave back the boy to the midwife, wrapped in a blanket, whispered again “Albus Severus Potter”, and left for the bar on the ground floor of his manor.  
While he drank his firewhisky in a red armchair, he heard a loud cry of a newborn baby.

~...~

Hermione Weasley was pregnant then, too, and just a month later she was carrying a little girl in her arms, which she named Rose. She gave her to her father and went back to work.

~...~

After a year they tried again, for a daughter, Lily Luna.

James was already walking, and was being the most mischievous young boy that walked the earth. Albus cried and slept and ate, and cried again, as if he could sense the disappointment in his parents.

Ginny got pregnant again, and on the 3rd of August 2007 she gave birth to a lovely girl. Harry held her proudly, and said her name, the one they chose almost two and a half years ago. “Lily Luna.”


	2. Darkness

**Chapter 2**

Years went by.

James got his own room when he was five and was most delighted not to have to sleep with two ‘crying babies', as he called his siblings. He chose the red bedroom that was a little smaller than the other one available, but had golden snitches flying around. His parents were smitten with his playfulness and amount of energy and were proud of him for learning his first letters.

Albus was almost four, and walking everywhere, exploring, curious about everything. He learned not to ask too many questions – Mother was always busy and Dad too distracted by James, so it was necessary for him to find his answers elsewhere. Thus, he started spending more and more time in the library upstairs. He and Lily, who was two years old, still slept together in the nursery, because Albus definitely didn't like the rose, girly room.

Albus was six, and Lily was four, when the girl moved to her new room. Albus was left in the nursery.

“Ha, ha!” James laughed. Albus didn't like James. James was loud, and thought he was funny, and he always laughed at him. He was a year and a half older and thought he could do anything. “Little Albus sleeps in the nursery! Baby Albus! Baby Albus!” And he ran away.

What was worse about James’ attitude, was that he not only thought he could do anything – their parents thought he could do no wrong. He was the golden child, the one the whole family loved, and Albus felt that. He felt that he was not welcome and that he should stay where he’s not seen and not heard. Frankly, he didn’t like to be ignored, but his house elf, Kili, often kept him company. That had to be enough.

Albus had a place of his own in the manor, where nobody bothered him. The library upstairs. He once asked his elf to bring a beanbag from one of the other rooms and place it in the study next to the library. He liked spending time there – it was quiet, high and too far from where James would ever be. The view from the window was also quite nice; the lake in front of the Manor was covered in beautiful flowers in various colours that looked like stars, and it was very calm.

The only time when anybody came anywhere near the fourth floor, was when Mother had piano lessons.

So very often he climbed the marble staircase on the family floor, creaked open the massive doors and spent his time in the company of books. He could get there with closed eyes.

He didn't understand. He knew he didn’t do anything bad, yet he always felt as if he was being punished for some mistake. Well, he did argue with James quite often, but it was none of his fault and it was James who always started this weird game of insults and play-fights. His questions were answered impatiently, he was often told to just go play in the nursery, no one ever had time for him.

The last straw was the matter of a room. He didn’t want to sleep in the nursery anymore. Even Lily, who was two years younger than him, already got her own room, and he was told to stay where he was, that it’s a perfectly good bedroom.

There was an empty chamber on the fourth floor, decorated in greens, next to the classroom and it was close to _his_ library, and why couldn't he just move there? Why?

He cried. He seemed to do that a lot because of James. Or because of his parents. James was awful, bad and not funny. James…

When he woke up, his house elf was standing above him.

“Kili was asked to find young master Albus and tell him to immediately come back to his room and go to sleep. Kili didn't want to wake up young master Albus. Kili is sorry.”

“Thanks, Kili,” Albus replied. He didn't want to go to his room, it wasn't really his room, just a nursery. Why couldn't he just... “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Kili, can you do something for me?”

“Kili can.”

“Move my things to the room here, the green room. I won't sleep in the nursery anymore!”

Kili disappeared with a pop, and Albus happily made his way to his new room. They never needed to know.

~...~

They didn't like it.

Father was disappointed, Mother was shouting, and James was laughing on the other side of the door. Albus felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes, but he knew he shouldn't cry. He was wrong, he shouldn't have moved upstairs, he should be sleeping in the nursery, with all the baby toys and baby books and baby stuffed dragons.

“I don't want to,” he said quietly. Ginny stopped shouting. But then, she started again.

“Of course you don't! But that's your room, and that's where you will sleep! What's wrong with that room?! It has a bathroom, has a bed!”

“I won't.”

“What do you mean, you won't! Of course you will. It's too much work to move everything upstairs! Who do you think will do that? Me?!”

“Ginny,” said Harry finally. “It's enough. Albus, go to the nursery and collect your things, if you wish to do so, but no house elf help.”

Albus hid a smile, turned, wiped his tears and left. They didn't know he already had them moved.

“There was no point in arguing, Ginny,” Harry said when they sat on the sofa together. “He's stubborn, and I can't watch him cry, you know.”

“But he had a perfectly good room, what's wrong with it?”

“I heard James laughing at him and calling him a baby yesterday. I don't know why he took offence, it was just a joke, but I think that's why he wanted a new room.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. They were always at odds, James and Albus. It always looked like it was James’ fault, but it wasn't, Ginny knew. James was a good kid, a little bit mischievous, but still good. He learned to read a year ago, when he was six, but didn't read much, he liked playing with trains and dragons, and very much liked the broom they bought him for his seventh birthday. Albus, on the other hand… They never knew what he was doing. Always up, in that damned library, or in the garden, doing Merlin knows what.

Albus was scary, that's what Ginny thought. He was perfectly polite, and perfectly calm, but his green eyes were scary. Harry’s eyes were warm, kind. And Albus’ were Avada green, and even when he looked at something he loved, they were still cold. Of course they were cold, she thought once. They had the killing curse trapped inside.

“But what if we need the tutor’s room?” One last thing that could possibly stop Albus from claiming it.

“We'll manage.” Gone.

~...~

He always liked the music room. Especially when his mom wasn’t playing the piano. It was well soundproofed, so that no one ever heard him when he played around with the instruments, and he could spend eternity pushing random keys of the big black grand.

But now, his mother was playing. ‘She must be having a lesson,’ he thought. There was this lady who always came to their manor on Tuesdays and Fridays and his mom seemed to like having her – they always went upstairs together, to the music room. Albus figured out that the woman must be a music teacher.

A plan slowly formed in his head. It was always easier to get something when it was already done, than to start begging for it. He would never beg. He smiled excitedly and quietly pushed open the door.

The lady looked up from the piano at him and cooed immediately, standing up. She was dressed in quite nice, bright daily robes and her hair was brought up in a bun. Albus thought she looked quite young and kind.

“Oh! Look at this young gentlemen! Ginevra, is this your son?”

His mom stopped playing the Beethoven Sonata she was learning now, and looked at Albus.

“Yes,” she said.

“Isn't he handsome?” the lady walked towards him and gave him her hand. “What is your name, young man?”

He took the hand and kissed the air above it, like he saw on the pictures in those books in the library. He liked reading those, because they had a lot of pictures and seemed very useful.

“Albus, ma’am.”

“Oh, Albus! Indeed, how you’ve grown!” the lady said. “Last I saw you, you were a little baby!”

Albus didn't know what to say then, so he just smiled. He read that smiling was almost always a proper response when dealing with ladies one didn't know.

Then, his idea returned to him.

“Madam, I would like to learn to play, too.”

Ginny reddened. She didn't expect that.

“Albus,” she warned.

“Of course, handsome,” the lady winked at him. “But I will have to talk to your father first.”

He smiled again and bowed, as the book said he should when saying goodbye to a lady and he slowly made his way to the staircase. He was sure his plan would work!

Albus forgot all about what he had wanted to do before he made the plan, so he went to the playroom to play a game of Acromantula.

The evening came, and with it dinner. Father heard about his request from the nice lady and they decided that the first lesson would be in two days.

“But,” Ginny said, “only girls play the piano.”

Albus didn't have any idea why his mom kept trying to fight against him. First the room, now the piano! And it wasn't true what she said – there were many boys who played!

“You're wrong, mum,” he said finally. Ginny looked at him angrily. “Tell me, whose pieces do you play?”

She put down her fork. “Well, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, Grieg… What’s your point?”

Lily looked at her brother and she asked, too, “what's your point?”

“Nevermind, they’re girls, right?” Albus said sarcastically.

Harry smiled fondly at his second son. Albus liked that. That must have been the first time Father smiled this way at him. Albus took a note of that.

And so, the lessons started. He learned the notes very quickly, and lady Elena was proud of him. He once asked her if she could teach him other instruments, too, and she replied that she could. And she started coming three days a week to the Manor – two days she had both Ginny and Albus on the piano, and the other one was spent with just Albus, playing another instrument – either the violin or the harp, though he much preferred the violin.

It was difficult in the beginning, but very satisfying later, not like the piano, which was the other way around – easy to learn the basics and hard later on.

~...~

Life for Albus was going quite well so far. He was almost seven, had his books, his music lessons and his games, and he accepted the lack of attention and actually enjoyed the freedom it gave him.

His birthday was coming, and he didn't know what he would get. James got a broom for his seventh birthday, but he wasn't that fond of flying… Maybe Dad would take him to the tailor’s? He didn't like wearing James’ cast-offs, and that was what he was wearing when he’d outgrown his own clothes. Or maybe he could make Dad take him to other houses he knew they had… The Black Palace was supposed to have a very nice collection of books and he really wanted to explore it.

It was the 12th of November, and he woke up late, dressed and went downstairs. In the breakfast room, there was a pile of presents from the whole family.

He had a big family, and they sometimes came for Yule or without any cause. There was Aunt Hermione (his second favourite aunt, because she seemed to approve of him spending time in the library, but she had a lot of work in the Department of Mysteries, so she didn't come often) and Uncle Ron, with little Rose and Hugo. Well, Rose wasn't that little, she was almost seven, too, but she was an annoying know-it-all and she was always trying to prove she knew more than him. She was actually kind of his friend. Kind of.

There was Uncle George and Aunt Angelina with two kids older than James; and Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur with three teenage children, two girls and one boy; and Uncle Percy with his wife and children, but he came very rarely. There was also the best Uncle ever – Uncle Charlie, who was working with dragons and didn't have a girlfriend. And Teddy, who was living with his grandma, Aunt Andy, his favourite aunt.

Today, only Rose and Hugo came, and Uncles Ron, George, Bill and Charlie and Aunts Hermione, Angelina and Fleur. And there were presents!

He got a broom from his parents – he supposed they just didn’t know what to get him ( _some attention would be nice_ , he thought). A children’s book from Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron (Aunt Hermione preferred to give him age-appropriate reading material). From Uncle Bill he got a book on curse breaking, a new one, so it couldn't be in his library. From Aunt Fleur he got books (big surprise, everyone seems to have gotten him a book!) on veela magic and flirting. He didn't know what to do with the second one, but thanked his Aunt wholeheartedly. Veela magic would be very interesting to read about and he didn’t have anything on that subject. George and Angelina gave him a lot of Quidditch gear, and ‘Quidditch through the Ages’ – they were both big fans of the game and Albus resigned himself to always getting Quidditch presents because of his father having been a natural in flying.

And then, there were more books, from Uncle Charlie, on different kinds of dragons, from Aunt Andy about magic in Ancient Egypt and from Teddy the next in the series – in Ancient Greece – they sent it with an owl, because they were in Hogwarts and couldn't make it.

They ate breakfast, and after that the whole party went to the gardens and pools. Albus wanted to get away, especially from Uncle Ron, who tried to talk to him about Quidditch, but it was his party, and he couldn't (he read that in some other book on traditions. Very useful). Finally, he found his dad alone and managed to excuse himself from the presence of Uncle Ron.

“Dad?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He was nervous, but he couldn't show it. It would mean he’s scared, and although he was, he learned that scared isn't what this family does. Harry nodded, so he continued. “I’d like to go shopping with you. For robes. I want new robes.”

“Why?”

‘Oh, so he's being difficult. Right,’ he thought, a plan forming in his head.

“You know, I feel left out. James and Lily always get new clothes when they outgrow them, and I only get James’ old ones.”

He smiled sadly and saw his dad falling for it. There was regret and love and care in his eyes, and Albus just might have used them. Those were actually new emotions – he rarely saw them before.

“I want to get new robes, dad. Not James’ cast-offs.” Tears were forming in his eyes. “And I’d like some new robes for Yule. Other children will laugh at me if I show up in last year’s ones.”

A single tear run down his cheek and he turned his head to look more vulnerable. Oh, and there he was, his dear father falling into a trap. Albus grinned inside.

“I'll take you tomorrow.”

Rose found him, somehow. Well, it wasn't difficult to find him, but still. She started telling him about that book she read recently, and he tried really hard not to ignore her, but it was impossible.

He was sitting at a table in the study, trying to learn Latin, and there she came, with her hair flying in every direction and telling him every detail of this book she read.

“Do you even listen to me?”

“No,” he answered. “You’re boring, and I’ve read that book a few months back. Besides, I'm trying to learn declination in Latin and that's really complicated.”

She puffed and pouted for a minute, then fell back on her chair.

“I’m booored, Al. Let's do something!”

“I found this interesting book a couple of days back, wanna see?”

And Rose was soon gone, absorbed in the text he’d given her.

~...~

The clothes trip went well, he got a whole new set of clothes and dress robes he really liked. He also managed to make his dad take him for a cake – without James who’d capture everybody's attention immediately, so they could have a nice private outing.

“Dad,” Albus started quietly.

Harry looked at him and smiled. Albus was a very quiet boy, studious and respectful, much more calm than he was when he was his age. He also looked very similar to him – he's hair the same black mess, his eyes the same shape and colour... The only thing missing was the scar on his forehead, otherwise Albus was a carbon copy of his father. 

"Can we visit the Black Palace someday? I'd like to see the library there, can we?" 

Harry nodded his head. He didn't have the heart to refuse. 

Albus knew the impact and influence he suddenly had on his father. It wasn't really hard to play him – his bad childhood and hero complex, their similarity; it was all there for Albus to use. 

"Of course we can. When would you like to go?"

~...~

The Black Palace was as amazing as he had always imagined. Glorious gardens with fountains, ponds and marble statues, hidden nooks, altanas and grottos, and hedge mazes, orangeries, greenhouses and pavilions. In front of the palace there was a terrace, and behind, a large courtyard. Father mentioned the Quidditch pitch the rest of the family would go to for a bit and that they would meet for a meal inside in two hours.

Albus said he would go find the Library.

It was built in a curious shape, almost impossible to describe. It seemed to be changing all the time, moving around itself, floors shuffling up and down, seemingly without any order. Albus circled the building and admired it, looking for the entrance.

What he saw inside didn't match what he saw on the outside. There were rows and rows of books, and doors, and behind them other doors. Albus got lost after the second turn he took. It was a maze.

Mirrors in weird positions, flames flaring into existence when he walked past them, and stairs in places they really shouldn’t be in, everything inside made the library look very scary. Even the floor itself seemed to be moving.

Albus decided that the Library must have had some semblance of consciousness or ability to read minds – when he thought that he would like to go back outside, immediately a door in that direction opened. He admitted he was a bit scared of getting lost in the huge building, but after seeing the trees and bushes through a door, that lead somewhere else before, he opted to stay and explore.

Each time he thought of a topic, the Library seemed to happily provide him with guidance and the flickering lights and mirrors suddenly stopped being scary at all.

Albus lost track of time. The grandfather clock that appeared in the room showed it was time for him to go for dinner. He didn’t want to go, and he felt like the LIbrary didn’t want him to go either. It reluctantly provided a door to the outside that creaked almost sadly when he opened it.

“I’ll come back, I promise,” he said, turning his head to look inside. The door slowly closed behind him and turned back into stone. 

~...~

Years passed. Albus studied, visited the Library as often as he could, James made him miserable, Lily played with dolls, Ginny wrote for the Quidditch column, Harry did politics. Everything was good.

In December 2012 there was, as usually a Yule Ball. That year it was a big affair, with a lot of food, a lot of guests and a lot of music. Small presents were exchanged, old dances were danced, and the Ball went on and on until after midnight. Albus liked the Yule Ball not because of the presents or the music, but because he liked to observe people and listen to conversations. He learned how to talk politics and how to look important, so very often he accompanied some of Father’s friends and listened with very well hidden interest.

In April, James celebrated his ninth birthday, and in August, Lily celebrated her sixth. Both got a lot of presents, not that Albus complained – apparently, they were a lot easier to get presents for.

Then again came November 2013 with Albus’ eight birthday, and that day, after everyone went to sleep, he thought of a new topic to search for in his sentient Library.

~...~

If you entered the library in the Black Palace and searched thoroughly, you would find more than twenty chambers of all kinds of books. If you knew how to approach the Library itself, you would find even more. Some contained just more knowledge, more hidden, old and forgotten manuscripts in mysterious languages, other had runic stones, dark artifacts, secret potions ingredients, experiments or rare brews.

What was important for Albus in that moment? The wands. A room, with one wall full of books and the other with two shelves that held long, black, brown or white wooden boxes, some even blood red or double-coloured. When he first saw what was inside, he thought he shouldn’t go in there – those were real wands. He entered the Library with a purpose to learn more about wands, not get one. He’ll get a wand when he’ll be eleven, it was safer that way. He’ll go to school, learn how to control his magic… But that was three years too late. The temptation was just too big and he wanted – no, needed – to learn now.

So the day after his eight birthday, when he knew everyone was on the big Quidditch pitch of the Palace, he entered the library maze with a purpose in mind. To learn more. And what if he considered taking the wands one by one from the boxes…?

The lights lit, the door closed and little Albus Severus found himself standing in front of two shelves of pure magic.

He didn’t know what to do next.

So he did the first dumbest thing he could think of.

He just took one out.

And nothing happened.

So he took another one. It leapt from his fingers as soon as he wanted to touch it.

The next one shot angry orange sparks. Next just fired a bang.

And so on, and so on. Until he found one labeled “Straif, Rougarou, Corvine Gaunt, 1765”. That one almost jumped to his right hand when he opened its box. Green sparks filled the air around him, and he felt pleasant warmth spreading up his arm. He found his match.

A quick search through the room gave him a spelled holster so he could carry his new companion without anybody noticing, and he felt more complete.

~...~

Learning magic was surprisingly difficult. Of course, he had already read half the books he needed – not spells, mind you, just theory and principles, but he needed much too many tries to get a Mending Charm right.

He used the experimental chamber the Library provided. He didn’t want to accidentally burn his house or get caught while practicing. His parents didn’t know, and neither of his siblings knew either. He thought of telling Rose…

For half of year 2014 he was stuck in trying to learn spells, but after getting no results, he gave up. He had no doubt of the fact that he  _ was  _ a wizard. A wand wouldn’t claim him if he wasn’t. So instead, he took to potions. That field was one of those he really liked the theory of. It wasn’t easy nor logical – how would you get from two different ingredients something that resembled neither of them was a difficult concept to grasp, but at least it was interesting. And one day he will find out what really happens inside of a cauldron.

~...~

“Rose,” he called the girl through his mirror one day. His cousin’s face appeared there and she smiled. “Can you recommend any books on channeling magic?”

The girl frowned.

“Why would you need that?” she asked.

“Just curious. Imagine if we have any difficulties in school at getting the charms right. It can’t be just a matter of a few words and a couple of gestures. There has to be something deeper.”

Because there had to be. He checked, there was no way his motions were wrong or that he mispronounced anything. His spells just didn’t work.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. You read anything on this or will I have to comb through my whole library?”

Rose sighed.

“No, you read  _ Theory of Magic _ before I did, there’s nothing in  _ Understanding Magic _ ,  _ Channel your thoughts  _ is divination, oh Merlin, no, I can’t think of anything.”

“All right, I guess I’ll do it myself.”

~...~

He didn’t give up on the spells. He thought that if he couldn’t do them now, there was no way they would work three years later with the added pressure of other students looking. So it was time to go for a search through the Black Library again.

And five days later he stood tall and proud amongst the books in the wandless section with a long-forgotten ancient scroll full of mysteries of magic. Ten days later he sat cross-legged in the middle of the experimental chamber, looking for his magical core. Fifteen days later he was able to  _ reparo  _ a broken glass. From that late afternoon of June 19th, 2014, two days before the summer solstice, the real fun started.

~...~

In September 2015, Albus was happily standing on the Platform 9 ¾, finally seeing his brother off to Hogwarts. The best two years in his short life begun in just that moment.

~...~

Albus’ piano and violin lessons continued, Albus’ self-study continued, and everything was great.

His tenth birthday was coming, and it was then that he decided to add mind magic to his studies. Mainly – Occlumency. So every morning before breakfast, he woke up early, meditated and built up his shields and while he knew he was in no way able to hold under an attack, by his eleventh birthday he was pretty sure he’d manage to fight off lighter nudges.

His potions brewing, while unexpectedly good for a child, left a lot of room for improvement. He didn’t try brewing harder potions, not sure if he wouldn’t mess them up, and without a tutor it really wasn’t safe, so he asked his Father if he would like some help with preparing ingredients – Harry agreed, not because he needed the help, but he saw it as a great opportunity for some father-son bonding time.

Harry had started studying potions and other topics in the time that was not taken by politics and managing estates a few years back. He had found out that brewing was actually very calming and relaxing, and that without the looming presence of Professor Snape, he was actually good at it.

Albus also started reading on arithmancy, though he didn’t understand that much. Runes he thought easier to master, as well as languages. He learned Latin and French quite well, much to Aunt Fleur’s delight. Whenever she visited, she liked talking with him in her mother tongue, and Albus was very content with the practice.

He was also doing quite well in spell casting. After reading and understanding the old scroll he found before, practicing jinxes, hexes and curses became his favourite past-time. He also uncovered some handy spells for folding clothes or spelling them clean, or with a nice flow. Those were a bit harder to cast, but he practiced and practiced until he got them right.

He also taught himself to write properly in Spencerian script. Neither his Father nor his Mother knew how to write neatly in a pureblood manner (not that they knew anything pureblood, for that matter), so he resigned to reading a lot on accepted noble behaviour and his writing, comparing to James’ was just perfect.

He tried easy match-needle transfigurations, but it appeared that his wand was better suited for combative magic. He knew he’d have to deal with Transfiguration in school, but he couldn’t find it in himself to practice something he wasn’t particularly good at. It wasn’t the same situation as with spells before. He actually read a lot on the subject, it was just the magic that didn’t sit well with him.

~...~

It was in August, a month before school, a week after the letter arrived and two days before he was supposed to go to Diagon Alley with his parents, when Rose found him in the study in the Starlake Manor, practicing curses from a combat magic book. With his original, Straif wand. Albus saw that book just the day before, in the manor library, and it looked impressive, and he couldn’t wait until he would go to the Black Palace, so he decided to try the spell there. And just when he fired a severing curse at a dummy, his cousin walked up the stairs, looking for him…

It was bad.

They took his first wand.

His dearest companion of the last three and a half years.

His most treasured possession.

They took her, saying she was made of blackthorn, prone to Dark magics, and they wouldn’t have him becoming the next Dark Lord.

They took her from him just when he needed her most.

Aunt Hermione gave it back, though. “Their bond is too strong,” she said. “You’ll unnecessarily hurt him.”

But those three weeks without  _ her _ made Albus Severus Potter fall. And when he got  _ her _ back, he dived straight into darkness. And he didn’t like Rose anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it – I'll gladly hear your thoughts. Cheers!


	3. Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, this time a bit earlier – it was one of those already ready for sharing...  
> Some feedback would be really nice, please!

Chapter 3

 

In Starlake Manor there weren't many snakes. Actually, thinking about it, Albus Potter couldn't remember ever seeing any living snakes before – there was maybe one on a painting in his house, but it never talked. Not like the one that was curled around another boy's wrist and hissing nervously about all the surrounding people.

The snake was... cute, Albus thought. The boy was cute, too, but even if still angry because of the wand, his Father said that friends were important and he should make good friends in school. He was hell-bent on not doing what his Father wanted him to do right in that moment, so he thought that either his friends would be ones Father wouldn’t approve of, or he would have none.

This wasn't his first time on King's Cross (he first came there two years ago to make sure his lovely brother was not coming home until Christmas). The boy with the little snake looked very lost, though, and everybody seemed to avoid both him and his father, and the snake was hissing something in the lines of “ _ I don't want to be here! I want to go to the big, red thing! Let's go! _ ” The boy didn't answer, hell, he probably didn't even understand –  _ what's wrong with you, Albus, you knew there was no way he’d be the same as you _ – and the snake repeated it, turning around to the engine, and the father noticed the movement. They disappeared in the train and Albus turned around.

“Who was that?” he asked quietly.

“Who?” Father said. He looked tired, with his messy hair, black shadows under his eyes, and wrinkles on his forehead. One thing was missing – the scar. Albus knew it was there, under a strong glamour. His Father (unlike James) didn't like the attention and he always tried to hide that when in public. Harry looked at his son sadly. The boy fiddled with his blackthorn wand and Harry’s thoughts immediately came back to the day when they took it from him.

“The boy with the snake. Blond hair, quite tall...?” He had to know – both the name and his family's reaction to him. He didn't want to make friends, Merlin forbid!

Anyway, not with anyone who his family liked.

“Oh, that... That's–”

“The Malfoys, “ Uncle Ron spat. Uncle Ron was even worse than Father. Awfully red hair, always bickering, almost never happy (not when Albus was around at least). When he saw Albus' room (green and silver, thank you very much), he went to Father and said, demanded! so loudly Albus was sure it could be heard on the whole island, to make him “get his shit together” and that he has to be in Gryffindor, like him, like Father and like bloody everyone in his family – and particularly like his brother – James Sirius Potter. As if the colour of his room somehow made him a Slytherin...

“Don't befriend the little git, Rose. I bet he's as bad as his father! He's even got a snake. That is unacceptable!”

Albus couldn't listen to Uncle Ron any more. He wondered why Aunt Hermione was not here, she would have managed to shut her husband up. She was probably at the Ministry, she spent a lot of time there recently.

“If you're not in Gryffindor, I'll disinherit you,” he suddenly heard from his left. It was, of course, Uncle Ron. “But no pressure.”

“Father!”

Rose laughed. She knew he didn't mean it, not truly – he just liked to joke sometimes. Albus knew that too, but it still made his blood boil. He desperately wanted to leave. Just go into the train, without James, without any of his numerous cousins, especially without Rose. Her betrayal still stung, the five weeks he spent alone still hurt. His eyes darkened, and he realised he had to go, if he didn’t want to lose his temper.

He turned to his mother, and hugged her. He didn't like hugs, but it would be impolite not to hug her in public. She was his Mum, and the press would find ten different reasons for why he didn’t show affection to her.

He said nothing, as she stiffly kissed his forehead.

“See you at Christmas, Al. And don't listen to Ron or James, whatever house, Ravenclaw or Slytherin, you'll end up in, remember that we'll always love you.”

It was sweet of her to say that, though Albus knew it wasn't entirely true. First, he knew from the two houses they would much prefer Ravenclaw. Slytherin was bad, in their opinion. It didn’t really matter what they said. Second, he really didn’t want to spend another Christmas with his all-Gryffindor family. Well, there was Aunt Andy, who was in Slytherin and Teddy, a Hufflepuff, but Andy defied her Dark family, so she didn’t really count, and Hufflepuff was okay… And then, there were his parents, who, although they tried, really couldn’t hide the fact that they were disappointed in their younger son. For his Slytheriness, for the wand incident, for many more things. For existing.

They told him, when they gave him his wand back, that he wasn’t to use it in school. That he had to hide it. They would have snapped it or taken it from him completely if it wasn’t for Aunt Hermione, but even she said it would be better for him to use his Ollivander wand in school. That if it got back to the Ministry that Albus Potter uses an unregistered wand, it would be bad.

He nodded at his Father, hugged briefly his sister, didn't spare a look towards his cousins (nor Uncle Ron, for that matter), took his trunk and disappeared into the “big, red thing”, as the Malfoy snake had said before.

The trunk wasn't heavy, not with the built-in feather-light charm, and he easily carried it through the train. He walked past his cousins Teddy and Victoire, who obviously didn't see him (they should have locked the door, really). Another compartment was full of shouting people, probably Gryffindors, there were some taken by quietly reading or discussing with each other Ravenclaws, in another there were children his age that were talking, but it was full and it obviously wasn't the compartment Albus was looking for.

It was the last compartment that he wanted to go to. He somehow knew the Malfoy boy was there, and he wasn't wrong. There he was, sitting alone, petting his snake and reading a book. He looked at Albus almost immediately when the door moved, but soon he concentrated back on the book. It was strange, Albus thought, to be ignored like that. The boy didn't say anything, not even a hello.

“ _ Why are you always like that, Scor? He's alright, just look at him! _ ” the snake hissed quietly. 'Scor' obviously didn't understand him, as he didn't care to spare even a quick glance towards Albus.

“Can I sit here?” Albus asked shyly, “everywhere is full.”

“I highly doubt that. And besides, why would you?” the boy murmured, not looking up from his book. It had to be a very interesting book.

“Because I want to. Can I?”

“Sure, if my presence doesn't bother you.” His eyes wandered up to Albus' face and stayed there for a while in a quiet challenge. Albus could see the grey in them, the hypnotising silvery grey, and he had to blink. There was something wrong. Something in those eyes, something scary and dark. Something the beginning of which he saw every morning in the mirror for the past month.

Albus put his trunk on the shelf and sat down.

“What's your name?” he asked. “I'm Albus.”

Malfoy closed his book rapidly and put it down before Albus could notice the title. The blond leaned on the table between them, and Albus suddenly felt fear.

“I know who you are, Potter. What I don't know is what are you doing here. You shouldn't be here. You've got 12 cousins, 9 of which are on this train, go to them.” His voice was cold, too cold for a child his age. _Quickly,_ _Albus, think of a reply_ , he thought. _Don't be scared, you cannot be scared._

“I don't like them, and it's mutual. I will not sit in a compartment full of Gryffindors.”

Malfoy smirked.

“Of course. Scorpius Malfoy. Nice to meet you, Albus Potter.”

Albus smiled.

He had a friend.

 

~...~

 

Albus was sure he will be in Slytherin. He was not brave, courageous and stupid enough to wear red, nor patient and loyal and hard-working to be a Hufflepuff. He loved to read, but no, not exactly read, he wanted to know, to learn, to be better, to prove that he is better than James. He belonged in Slytherin. He couldn't be anywhere else.

And he found that the Sorting Hat thought so, too.

But first – the train ride.

It wasn't dull at all. Albus got to pet the snake, whose name was, dear Merlin, Cuddles, they ate the sweets provided by Albus' mum, and Scorpius didn't try to ignore the other boy any more. The book he had been reading earlier was a history book – not the textbook, mind you.

“We live in a manor. It’s too big and too cold for just me and my father. We have a wonderful library, though.”

“I practically live in my library,” said Albus.

Scorpius laughed. “You’re such a Ravenclaw!”

“I’m not!”

“Are too!”

“You’ll see! I’ll be in Slytherin.”

“Yeah, alright.”

The boys laughed.  _ It’s wonderful, _ Albus thought,  _ to have a friend.  _ He had a maybe-friend before, but she was bossy, and controlling, and nosy, and she wanted to know everything – and when he beat her in a quiz, she was angry the whole week! It was just this summer, that he saw how much not-a-friend she was.

“Exactly how big is your library, Scor?”

“Quite. Like five bedrooms, maybe. And full to the ceiling!”

“I bet mine is bigger!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a whole building! Several floors filled with books, and it’s a maze! The library in the Manor is a bit smaller though.”

“Wooow, sweet Merlin! That’s a heaven! We just have a lot of rooms and ball halls. I like your house better.”

“See, you’re such a Ravenclaw, too!”

And they laughed again.

Time had run fast and they didn't even notice when the train arrived at Hogsmeade. Albus was happy – he had a new friend, who surely would be in Slytherin with him, he was away from home (he missed the Library, though) and finally free from his awful family.

Scorpius was – surprisingly – smiling, too. Cuddles was curled around his arm, his robes looked expensive and were flung open, revealing a white dress shirt and muggle jeans. Albus noticed the blond boy held a certain disregard for rules and authority, with his somewhat cocky manners and sarcastic language. His hair was slightly messy, but not too much, his eyes were not grey anymore, they shone with silver and the darkness was not visible anymore.

“Are you nervous, Albus?” he heard suddenly.

“Are you?”

“No, I know perfectly well what to expect. They'll be looking, you know. At you, mostly. They have expectations.”

“Yeah, they've got one Gryffindork and they want another. Wishes.”

Scorpius laughed quietly.

 

“First years, after me!” came a loud voice. Albus recognised it – it was uncle Neville, one of the only friendly enough uncles in his awfully large, Gryffindor family. He was a Gryffindor himself, but somehow a decent person. Now, he was his Herbology Professor and Head of House, and James had been quite obnoxious about that...

They were walking with other first years down a narrow path through the woods, which suddenly opened onto the edge of a great black lake. On the shore, twelve boats were gently floating right above the surface.

The lake was gigantic – Albus had obviously read the Hogwarts: A History, but the scale on the image inside was inaccurate. The Great Lake was far larger, and the grounds were far bigger, and the castle – oh, the castle.

“Four to a boat, please. There's enough place, don't panic. Four to a boat, not five, Miss... Summerby.”

Albus and Scorpius went to a boat where two little, blond boys were sitting and quietly talking to each other. They were slightly familiar, Albus remembered seeing that dirty-blond hair somewhere before.

“Hey,” he said. The boys raised their heads at the same time.

“Hello,” answered one of them. He had more bluish eyes, and was slightly taller than the other twin.

“Everybody in?” shouted Professor Longbottom. “ _ FORWARD! _ ”

And the fleet moved off all at once, it felt like they didn't even touch the surface. Everybody was silent, staring up at the great castle, as the boats neared a cliff. There was a tunnel that led to a stony, underground harbour.

The silence continued. The first years walked up a path leading from the cave to a huge, oak door.

“Everyone here? Good, let's enter.”

And the door opened.

 

~...~

 

So, it wasn't a huge surprise for Albus that when the Hat touched his hair it immediately shouted “Slytherin!”, no second thoughts.

He was in the second half of a quite long list of names, with Scorpius Malfoy exactly in the middle of it. The Hat sat on Scorpius' head for a while longer and Scorpius was muttering something to it. He clearly convinced the Hat that putting him in Slytherin was not a bad choice, because his tie quickly changed its colour to green. Just before Albus, a black-haired pretty girl was called, Nott, Penelope, and after sending him a smirk she went to sit next to Scorpius. Albus shivered. That Nott girl did not look friendly.

“Potter, Albus!” called Professor Longbottom, and Albus eagerly sat on the three-legged stool.

There was no talking, there was no asking. He only managed to murmur in his mind  _ I want to be... _ –  and the hat called “SLYTHERIN!”. No surprise there for neither Albus nor Scorpius, but the Great Hall fell silent. The Gryffindors were shocked, the Hufflepuffs were concerned, the Ravenclaws – curious, and the Slytherins... quite baffled. Well, the Potter-Weasley-Granger family was famous for their bravery and courage, and Albus was supposed to be a perfect copy of his Father, not a “slimy snake”.

Actually, he was a perfect copy of his Father, minus the glasses, the scar, and now the red tie.

He was taller than Harry was when he was eleven – not from the genetics, but thanks to a better background. But he had the same messy black hair, eyes of the colour of the Killing Curse, slim built, exact same features. There was nothing in him that resembled a Weasley, and he maybe had a little bit more pronounced cheekbones, from his Great-Grandmother, a Black.

And there he was, the son of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice walking towards the den of snakes, head held high, nerves calm, radiating self-confidence. He was a snake for a reason.

 

He sat down on the other side of Scorpius – apparently he saved him a place (in spite of a “Why do you even care, that's a Potter, he's surely a bloody lion” from Penelope Nott). The Sorting was much less interesting from the tables, he found. He politely clapped when 'Randle, Jason' joined the Ravenclaw table, and when Joey Rickett and Oliver Rivers sat down with the Hufflepuffs. Then came Lorcan Scamander – it was the smaller twin, Albus could see – and when he was sorted (after a long, long while) to Slytherin, he waited for his brother. He smiled, when Lysander took his hand and they both sat down across Albus and Scorpius.

“So, a Potter in Slytherin?” asked Lysander. He was the talking one. “Don't worry, our family doesn't belong here either.”

Scorpius smirked.

“He doesn't worry.”

Albus shivered. He didn't know what was that feeling, but he saw the darkness in Malfoy's eyes reappear suddenly and despite the urge to tell him he can talk for himself, he couldn't force his mouth open.

There was a cold silence around them.

Their table started clapping suddenly, which startled Albus, and he noticed a girl with short brown hair walking towards them (she sat down with a huge grin and a loud “hi! I'm Daisy!”). After that another pair of twins joined them (with a nod) and the whole group of Slytherin first years was gathered at the end of the table. Albus counted, they were twelve, six girls and six boys. He recognised Penelope Nott from before and Daisy Travers and Zabini twins, but there were two other girls, he didn't remember from the Sorting. He knew Scorpius, and now the Scamanders, so he had another two boys to greet, too.

Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall welcomed them to another, hopefully fruitful year and announced some things (the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, beware the Whomping Willow, House Points are important, House Cup even more, go outside and play tomorrow, because this Saturday and Sunday are the last days of freedom you get this year, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term, the list of banned objects can be read on the door of the caretaker's office, no mischief and no magic outside the classroom, etcetera, etcetera).

Before he could open his mouth with a greeting, he felt a hand on his knee, and he knew he should leave the talking to others. It was irrational, he could take care of himself pretty easily, thank you very much. Still, he gave a little nod to Scorpius, and the blond smiled a little.

The food appeared at the table, but no one was paying it any attention. Politics were clearly important in the Slytherin house, but Albus wished they could do politics with a full stomach, he was bloody hungry already.

“Hello. I'm Scorpius Malfoy, of course I know you know, Nott. This is Albus Severus. Let's not care about his surname, shall we? Of course I know you know it's Potter, Nott, now please, kindly close your mouth and let the others present themselves.” Scorpius nodded towards one of the boys Albus did not recognise.

“Thank you, Malfoy. Augustus Greengrass, this is my sister, Andrea. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Augustus nodded towards the Scamanders and Andrea sent Albus a sweet smile. (She was a pretty girl, he knew that perfectly well. A bit short, with light brown hair, little nose and bright eyes. He sent her a smile too. He liked her.)

“I'm Lysander, this is Lorcan Scamander, my twin. Well met.”

“Henry Lafayette. Delighted.” Henry spoke with a light French accent, a little bit like Luis, Victoire and Dominique.

The Zabini girls smiled at each other and the one with a bit darker hair spoke.

“I'm Belinda, this is Audrey. Zabini, from the Italian line of the Black Widow. Pleasure.” They both smiled, a little bit too sharp, but still sweet – like a rather practised for long hours in front of a mirror smile, not an actual one.

“Penelope Nott,” she said, while playing with her longish dark hair. “Can't wait to get to know you all.” She was smiling particularly at one Andrea Greengrass, but it was a nice, genuine smile, like she really meant what she said.

“Already told you, but if you insist. Daisy Travers, and no need for all this farce with surnames, just call me Daisy!”

“Montague. No need for all this farce with first names, I'm pretty comfortable with my surname, Travers. Why aren't you?”

Montague was a rather tall girl, with high, noble cheekbones and hair darker than Nott's. She held herself like a proper pureblood, with grace and a cold mask.

“My father wasn't a Death Eater at least,” said Daisy, frowning. Albus remembered. Montague was one of those Death Eaters who weren't caught right after the Battle of Hogwarts, and caused a lot of chaos in Britain. He was convicted not long ago, maybe three years, maybe four. No wonder why this Montague girl is so cold.

“But your grandfather was,” Lorcan said quietly. “Grandpa told me. He kidnapped Mum when she was in school. And did a lot of bad things.”

“That's why you don't want to use your surname, Daisy? Because of him?” Asked Albus. He knew Travers from the stories his family loved to tell. It was when they were with Xenophilius Lovegood, talking about the Deathly Hallows. Luna was missing, taken to the Malfoy Manor, to make her father write things.

Daisy nodded. “And I don't really like it. Doesn't sound that good.” There was a sigh. “I'm sorry for your mum. She was truly beautiful and kind. My mother talked about her sometimes, they were housemates, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“I don't like my surname either. All that Boy-Who-Lived crap, Gryffindors everywhere and their awful attitude makes me sick.”

Albus felt Scorpius' eyes on him, but the look he was given wasn't a cold, awful stare, but one with a smile and a hint of something kind? Proud?

“You'll fit in here, Albus. We all bloody hate those lions,” laughed Zabini, though he still didn't know which one. Probably Audrey. Her hair was a little bit more blond.

There was a quiet ramble of Albus' stomach, so quiet only Scorpius was actually able to hear it.  _ Well _ , Malfoy thought,  _ let's eat dinner. _

“Bon appetit,” he said finally, placing some potato purée on his plate. Everybody followed.

 

~...~

 

There was something in that Potter boy, Scorpius could not quite understand.

He usually couldn't understand people, but that's not what he meant. There was a part of him that wanted to smile when he saw him, to laugh at his jokes, to be with him. And the other part was whispering quietly, to befriend Albus, to make Albus trust him, to use him.

Because he might be useful, right?

That first part of him knew there was something wrong, dark somewhere in him and he knew the reason for it very well. He still had nightmares after five horrible years.

 

He didn't want to go to Hogwarts. He liked his own Manor, thank you very much. He liked his grandfather's peacocks, his grandmother's gardens, the flying pitch, his mother's favourite fountains, his Father's office. Some of them were tainted with pain and memories of his family, of Lucius' fragile health after returning from Azkaban, of Narcissa's tears, of Draco's quietness, of Astoria's stillness. He still liked it, because those memories made him who he was, and he liked who he'd become.

The boy with steel silver eyes and gold platinum hair. The Scorpion, ready to bite, the Emperor, eager to rule.


End file.
